


A Night to Remember

by Annemarie01



Series: Married with Troubles [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Love, Marriage Proposal, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 03:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17296541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annemarie01/pseuds/Annemarie01
Summary: The night started well enough but shortly after turned into a nightmare ... until a saviour appeared.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the ones who don't read tags and warnings: there will be rape in this story.
> 
> I do mention it now, so, if you can't cope with it, for whatever reason, (and believe me, I understand) you can back out. Don't assume I think lightly of this because I know all too well what kind of impact it can have.
> 
> I want to thank you in advance for reading this!

A Night to Remember

Part one of the Prologue

-

 

It was a rough night. A fierce wind was sweeping through Kirkwall, bringing with it slashes of rain; the water poured down like a shroud of wetness. Hawke had decided that this was the perfect time to sit in her library, with a glass of whisky on the side-table next to the sofa, a book in her hands and a cosy fire in the hearth. She had taken a bath and changed into a loose nightshirt and evening-robes. She had sent her servants away, giving them money to have a good dinner in one of the lovely restaurants in Hightown and a nice drink in one of the many inviting taverns after their meal. (‘Everywhere but the Hanged Man,’ she had warned Bodahn. ‘Or the Rose. There are taverns enough to enjoy a drink without shocking Sandal and Orana.’ The dwarf had nodded and smiled eloquently, perfectly knowing what she meant.)

For the first time since many years she had wished to be alone ... Well, it would have been better if a certain elf had been present to keep her company, of course, but this was as good as it could get. She didn’t get plagued with the awful memory of the death of her mother anymore, at least not at a daily basis, and the crushing feeling of guilt had subsided. Due to time and the support of her friends, she admitted. She still only wistfully entered her mother’s bedroom, but going through her former belongings and eyeing the space she had once occupied, had become less painful. It had been years by now and, with help, she had learned to live with the regret.

In the meantime the early-autumn (or late-summer) storm raged on.

She loved this kind of weather and wanted to get pleasure out of every moment. One of those little pleasures was simply sitting before a warm fire with a good book to read and a nice drink at hand. All on her own. Without the two dwarfs and the small elf girl to interrupt her thoughts. Besides that, her servants had deserved a night on the town on her account; they were faithful and loyal and supportive. She considered them more as family than as  employees. It had taken a lot of time to earn Orana’s trust, but at least the elf girl wasn’t as jumpy as she had been when they had saved her from Hadriana’s sadistic clutches. She had actually started to enjoy life. Marian had made certain they wouldn’t suffer from the bad weather; she had given them enough money to hire a coach.

She felt almost perfectly content, if it hadn’t been for the absence of Fenris. She tried not to think of him, but failed gloriously. She wanted to focus on the text she pretended to read, but her thoughts all but wandered to him. What was he doing? Getting cold and wet in that dilapidated mansion of his? Drinking wine? Exercising reading and writing? Thinking of her? She sighed. It was more than three years since their wonderful one-time lovemaking, and still she could not get that magnificent night out of her mind. On a regular basis she got dragged out of her sleep because of a sudden mighty orgasm, waking up because she dreamed of his deftly fingers and tongue, his tender and yet passionate caresses, his hardened length forcefully pounding inside her ...  With a curse she picked up the book she had neglected for the last minutes and re-read the last line, trying to take up the story once more, before her thoughts had gone their own dangerous way. Again.

They had managed to act like friends around each other after that fateful night that had left her totally broken and devastated. Perhaps even more than the loss of her mother had done, certainly intensified by that gruesome occurrence. But, eventually, she had learned to cope with him and her never ceasing feelings of love for him. He had not taken a new lover and neither had she. Not even a one night stand to release her frustrated sexual tension. He was never a heartbeat away from her thoughts. She needed him like she needed the air to breathe but she accepted that he, on his turn, needed his space. And at the same time she hoped fervently that, one day, he would come back to her. He __was__  still with her, for that matter, because he had pledged he would stay at her side, come what may. And he even went as far as an occasional touch now and again. Be it awkwardly and reserved. They maintained a kind of relationship that went further than friendship. Somewhere deep down there still resonated the echo of that one night, the echo of their cries of ecstasy, the echo of the feelings of love that bound them together.  And, she had to admit, it was better than friends with benefits. Friends with benefits sounded superficial, like a kind of relationship Isabela would entertain. No strings attached, no harm done. But there __were__  strings, strong ones, and, alas, harm __was__  done.   _ _Friends__  .... she mused. They shared something deeper. Something more meaningful. But always there was that distance, that __chasm__ , that he, for some reason, couldn’t bridge.

She started when she heard a rumour at the entrance of the library and turned her head, hoping against better judgement it would be her lovely, adorable, mind shattering elf. With slight disappointment she saw it was Anders and she intensely hoped he wouldn’t harass her again with his manifesto. Not now. Not this evening. As a matter of fact, she didn’t want him around at all and she already opened her mouth to tell him so. At that very moment she noticed the hunted, alarming look in his eyes and immediately she got alert. She threw her book aside and got up.

‘Anders! What is wrong? Did the Templars find you?’

She had given him a key to the entrance of her cellar, close to his clinic, to be used in times of danger. She was always afraid that one day someone would betray him, despite the good he did as an extremely skilled and dedicated healer. Poverty was a poor companion and the prospect of money could people drive to evil deeds. Frankly, she was amazed it hadn’t happened already. She had to admit that she didn’t harbour very warm feelings for his crazy idea to free all mages in Thedas, but, on the other hand, she didn’t want to see him being captured and dragged to the Gallows either. That would end in his death or being made tranquil, which probably was even worse.

The mage kept staring at her with that disconcerting look.

‘No,’ he said hoarsely. ‘It’s not the Templars that are bothering me.’

-

For years he had yearned for her, wanting her, dreaming of her. When that beast had wormed his way into her bedroom and had left her at the same night, hurting her like hell, he had hoped she would turn to him. He had been understanding, patient, waiting for what he had for a long time thought was inevitable, but she had never given herself to him. She had never even dropped a hint that giving herself to him belonged to any possibility. And still he had kept on longing.

Justice had grown intolerant, growling in his head to take matters in his own hand, to be done with it, so he could turn his attention to the need of mages once more. She was only a distraction to their ultimate goal. A pesky bump in the road to the perfect world. He should, Justice pointed out, grumpily and impatiently, as was his way, solve the matter. As fast as possible.

And, finally, he had given in to the spirit’s complaints. Justice was right, after all. He loved her, she belonged to him. He could give her so much more than that wild dog that had just wounded her. He could repair her, heal her, make her feel whole again. He could chase those longing, hurting glances she still cast at that – feral animal, away. Forever. She could be happy again, if only she would see ... He would make her see. This night he would convince her that they were made for each other. He was at the end of his tether and completely wound up.

‘ _ _Just get on with it, won’t you,__ ’ Justice pressed on.

Hawke had risen from the sofa and faced him with a concerned look. Anders moved quickly, not giving her time to think. Within two paces he stood before her and took her into his arms. She congealed at first and then tried to wriggle free, but he held her fast as a vice. He captured her lips with his and kissed her ferociously.

‘Anders, don’t,’ she cried out when she had managed to free herself from his demanding lips. But he didn’t listen. He had had a taste of her and he wanted more. He bit her lower lip and took advantage of her gasp to plunge into her mouth. His tongue battled with her unwilling one. He explored the cavern of her mouth with ecstasy, getting hungry for more. His hands moved to her nightshift and impatiently he shredded the garment so he got access to her bare breasts. He kneaded her soft, yet firm mounds eagerly, deaf to her fervent calls to stop.

Again she attempted to break free, but he was far stronger than she was, and with ease he held her captured in his arms. He left her mouth and moved down her body. He sucked one of her nipples, not paying heed to her pleas. His hand wandered further south, to the hidden entrance between her legs, while he sank his teeth into the crook between her neck and shoulder, drawing blood. He wanted to mark her, she was his. She tried to fight him off but he was determined to have her. He took her scream of pain as an expression of pleasure and repeated his bite, tasting her blood with satisfaction. His hand slipped into her smalls and he rubbed the warm flesh of her folds. He found her entrance and pushed a finger inside her. The contact mesmerized him and made his knees buckle.

They tumbled on the floor, he on top of her.

-

The wind was forced out of her lungs and for a moment she was completely defenceless. He took advantage of the situation and ripped her smallclothes away.

‘Don’t do this,’ she feebly pleaded. ‘Please, Anders, don’t do this.’

But he pressed on and claimed her trembling mouth once more while his finger started pounding painfully inside her.

She felt herself going completely numb; she couldn’t believe this was really happening. Of course she had known Anders had a crush on her. That was the reason why she had been very careful with how she treated him. She had been sure, however, that she had never led him on. And besides that, she had trusted him. She had been certain he would never abuse her. She had been certain he respected her, that he would never take advantage of her.

But now he did. Now he was raping her. She was so shaken that she couldn’t find the strength anymore to fight him off. In shellshock she just let it happen. She felt his hand grasping her breasts, his teeth biting her powerfully. She felt the ferocious bite for a second time, drawing blood. She felt his other hand groping between her thighs, and now his cock, entering her sheath, immediately hammering her remorselessly, as if he was punishing her. He writhed and grated and groaned. And all the while she was lying beneath him, frozen, not able to act. He spurned his seed into her depth with a feral grunt. He hadn’t even removed his robes, he just had hitched them up. After his last brutal thrust he withdrew, leaving her completely wretched. She turned on her side, rolling into a ball, the heels of her hands pushed into her eyes.

-

Anders stood up, rearranged his clothes and looked down on her, at first feeling very content with himself. He was still panting because of his exertions. The heat of his arousal only subsided slowly; he felt warm and flushed and complete. He finally had done it, he finally had made her his own.  

But then it dawned to him __what__  he had done. He saw the still body of the woman he worshipped, hiding from his eyes, hiding away from the world. He realised he had damaged her beyond repair and the worst part was that he didn’t know why he had done it.

This had never been his intent. He had wanted to win her over with warm words and gentle gestures, letting the witty poet out; not with this. He had wanted to adore her, to spin her in a sweet web of love and dedication. But instead he had acted like a brutal soldier, conquering a hostile city, taking the valuables and marking the women along the way.

He had broken her.

The insight hit him with the force of a battering ram and he broke down. His whole body started to tremble and with much effort he just managed to stay upright.

‘Damned hell, what have you done to me?’ he cursed at the spirit in his head.

‘ _ _You wanted this__ ,’ Justice replied dryly. ‘ _ _You can hardly blame me. I just gave you a push to get it over with.__ ’

Anders’s knees gave way at the harsh truth of the words that the blasted spirit uttered, and he sank down next to the motionless form of the woman he loved and had badly molested. Against his will. No, not against his will, if he was really honest. But he had never meant it to happen in this way. He had dreamed of her coming to him, not of this. _Oh dammit, dammit what have I done? How can I make this whole again?_

‘Hawke,’ he muttered, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

She didn’t move.

He stretched out his hand, but his wavering fingers stopped an inch from her head. Suddenly he was afraid to touch her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he repeated, completely desolated.

‘Go away,’ she breathed. He could hear the grief choking her voice.

‘I never meant ...’

‘Go. Away,’ she repeated without looking up, or even changing her position.

Anders felt nauseated. His hand hovered over her head but there was no way he could comfort her. Not he. He stood up and left the library.

-

He fled her house, leaving the key he was trusted with on the desk in the parlour. For hours, it seemed, he wandered through Hightown, not willing to return to his clinic in the Undercity, on the other hand, not knowing where to go to spill his agony either. For a short moment he contemplated to run to the Hanged Man and confess everything to Varric, but rejected the idea. The dwarf would kill him without a second thought. And if __he__ didn’t, Bianca would. Or Isabela. Whatever the case, it wouldn’t help Hawke.

Finally, he found himself on the steps of the Chantry, completely drenched by the still pouring rain. The Chantry. The last place he wanted to be found. But he realised what he had to do. He would not find redemption here, but he __would__  find the only person who’d be willing to listen to him without murdering him. And would take action to aid Hawke. He slipped into the temple just before the doors closed for the evening and went straight to the cell he knew was Sebastian´s. He stumbled over the doorstep.

The former prince had been caught in prayer but got warned by the noise Anders made. He immediately turned around and his eyes grew wide at the sight of the tumbling man. He jumped up and only just prevented the mage from falling flat down.

‘Anders!’ he cried out. ‘What the hell –?!’ He cut himself short. No curses in the Chantry. He noticed that the expression on Anders’s face was nothing but an upset picture of panic and misery. He grew worried, besides anxious.

‘Somebody has to go to Hawke,’ the mage panted. He was close to tears.

Sebastian looked puzzled. ‘Why? What happened?’

‘I, I have...‘Anders stammered before making an effort to collect himself. He tried to regain some kind of self respect but failed dramatically. He broke down once more. ‘I forced myself upon Hawke,’ he managed, feeling totally wrecked.

Incredulously Sebastian looked at him. ‘You did __what__?’ he exclaimed, not trusting his own ears.

‘Believe me, the only thing I want to do is to go back and make it undone,’ Anders whispered. ‘But I can’t. I’m the last person she wants to see right now.’ He looked up at the Chantry brother with a desperate look in his eyes. ‘But someone __has__  to go.’

Without thinking Sebastian lashed out and hit the mage square in the face with his fist. ‘You bloody idiot!’ he yelled. ’Do you have any idea what you have done?!’

Anders crumpled under his force. He fell hard on the cold tiles of the cell. He knew what he had done, he bloody hell knew __too well__  what he had done. No need to answer.

‘You stay here,’ Sebastian snarled in a dangerously low voice. ‘You stay here and wait for my return.’

Anders nodded, not even trying to wipe the blood away that gushed from his broken nose. He welcomed the cold surface under his face. He closed his eyes and embraced the darkness. For some amount of time he wouldn’t have to think or feel or remember.

-

Sebastian ran from his cell, turned back to lock the door, and grabbed two Chantry sisters, who happened to pass his room, by the shoulders.

‘Warn Her Grace and tell her I hold someone prison in my cell who can on no term walk free,’ he ordered. He wasn’t even aware of the fact that he radiated the authority he used to wield as a prince. The women looked impressed, if not frightened, and hurried to alert the Grand Cleric. While he was racing down the temple to the entrance, Sebastian feverishly thought about whom to send to Hawke. It had to be a woman, he thought at first, but when he ticked of the candidates, he felt not so sure about that.

Aveline was the first to spring into mind, but he needed her himself to formally arrest Anders. Merrill would be the worst choice, he imagined. She would just blabber and break down. He could hardly imagine her as a support for a raped woman. And Isabela ... he doubted she would be of any use. He frowned. Perhaps _she_ would be the worst choice; he doubted even if she grasped the meaning of “rape” at all.

And then he realised there was only one person who could comfort Hawke and calm her down. He growled at the Templars who guarded the doors and without thinking they let him go through. The prince demeanour once again worked, and again without him being aware of it. Within minutes he reached Fenris’s mansion. He didn’t even bother with knocking. He just rushed through the door.

‘Fenris!’ he called out. ‘Are you in?’

The elf immediately appeared on the landing, not wearing armour. Instead he was clad in a loose linen shirt and close fitting leather pants, but he had his menacing sword in his hands. The moment he saw the prince, however, he put the intimidating weapon aside. With a few fast jumps Sebastian reached him on the landing.

‘What happened?’ Fenris asked, startled by Sebastian’s tense behaviour and the distressed look in his eyes.

‘You have to go to Hawke and stay with for her as long as she needs you,’ Sebastian blurted, panting from his exertions.

Fenris’s expression quickly changed from startled to alarmed. ‘Why? What is wrong?’ His markings flared blue. Hawke. Something was wrong with Hawke. His heart started hammering in his chest. His eyes grew dark.

Suddenly Sebastian wasn’t so certain anymore if it had been such a good idea to turn to the elf. He might as well decide that ripping Anders’s heart out was the best thing he would ever do. And although that might be true, Hawke wouldn’t benefit from that action.

‘Promise me that whatever I tell you, you will go to her,’ he pressed.

‘Yes I promise,’ Fenris growled impatiently, desperately trying to control himself. ‘Now tell me.’

Sebastian hesitated. At last he said rather enigmatically, suddenly fearing the elf’s reaction, ‘She has been violated.’

Fenris stared at him, at first not comprehending. ‘Violated?’ he repeated, brows furrowed. And then it dawned upon him. He swallowed hard. ‘You mean she has been – raped?’ Sebastian just nodded. ‘By whom ...’ But he needed no answer. He saw it in Sebastian’s tormented look. There could only be one person to do something that disgusting. The one that had been hungering after her for enough time to eventually crack. ‘ _ _Venhedis__ ,’ he cursed out loud. ‘Fucking hell,’ he added breathlessly, as if Tevene didn’t suffice to express his rage. ‘The abomination.’ He had to hold on to the banister to keep himself straight. Meanwhile his thoughts raced, and they were filled with remorse and a painful sense of guilt.. He should have seen this coming, he should have protected her more fiercely. He should have been around to prevent this. He never should have – __Fasta vass__! ‘Where is that monster?’ he snarled.

‘You promised to go to her ...’

‘Of course I will go to her,’ Fenris growled. ‘I just want to know he isn’t running free! So that I can give him what he deserves afterwards!’

Sebastian took a deep breath, partly out of stress and partly because of blessed relief. He had made the right decision after all. ‘He is in my room, being guarded. I’m going to Aveline right now to let him thrown into one of her cells.’

‘Good,’ Fenris said grimly. He was already halfway the stairs when he turned back. ‘Where is she?’

‘In her own house,’ Sebastian said, ‘as far as I understood.’

Fenris almost missed a step and had to grab the railing to keep his equilibrium. ‘He raped her in her own home, the bloody bastard.’ He let out a string of Tevene curses and then he vanished through the front door. Sebastian puffed out his cheeks before he trailed after the furious and deeply concerned elf.

As soon as he got outside, he picked up his pace. The sooner he got Anders into the dungeons of the Keep, the sooner he would feel better. Only then he realised the elf had run off without his armour and even without his sword. That must have been the first time. He definitely had made the right decision.

-


	2. Chapter 2

A Night to Remember

Part two of the Prologue

-

Fenris burst into Hawke’s estate and started wandering around, desperately eager to find her. He called out her name but there came no response. She wasn’t in the parlour, and neither in the living room and with a rising feeling of dread he ran up the stairs to her bedroom. But thankfully he didn’t find her there either. Her nightly sanctuary had been kept unscathed; she was still able to sleep there.

Soon after that, he discovered her in the library, rolled into a ball of numb despair. He had to swallow back sudden tears at the pitiful sight. Their fearless leader turned into some equivalent of a wet ball of fur, of some drowned puppy or kitten. He had to console her, whatever it took. But he had to be careful with his approach, that much was obvious. So he squatted cautiously next to her and warily touched her head. He whispered her name. Intensely she shrank back, fiercely trying to avoid his touch. It broke his heart.

‘Albran, it’s me, Fenris. I’m here for you,’ he softly said.

Sharply she drew in breath and then turned to him. The desperate look in her eyes almost nailed him down. With a sob she sat up and reached for him, trembling all over her body. He gathered her into his arms, leaned back and took her into his lap. She clang onto him and pushed her face into his shoulder.

‘I trusted him,’ she cried, forlornly. ‘I trusted him. I thought he was my friend.’

He held her as firm as he dared. ‘I know,’ he whispered. What could he say? Nothing. There were no hollow references to the afterlife with which he had tried to comfort her after her mother had died. Back then he had hated himself for using those cheap lines, although she had, at least seemingly, pulled strength from what he had said. But now there was only emptiness. Nothing sprang to mind.

‘I trusted him,’ she said again, whimpering. He pulled his fingers through her dishevelled but still silky hair and gently stroked her back, trying to soothe her. And in some way or another it seemed to work. She wept and shuddered, holding on to him as if he was her lifeline, but finely she calmed down. He buried his face in her long honey-blonde locks and wished he could make her pain go away. Her tears had drenched his shoulder and every now and then she shivered.

‘I trusted him, I thought he was my friend,’ she repeated ever so often, as some kind of mantra.

He just held her frame firmly to his, caressing her, not uttering a word because he couldn’t find words, not even in Tevene. And because he was afraid that uttering a word, whatever word, would hurt her even more. Would shatter her. He didn’t know how long they had sat like that when her servants returned. He hadn’t even been aware they hadn’t been present; he had been too focused on her predicament to perceive anything else.

Bodahn was the first to notice them and he had to give it to the dwarf that he immediately sensed something was desperately wrong. And since Hawke was holding on to him, and was apparently completely wasted, Bodahn turned his attention to him.

‘Messere! What is going on?’

Fenris didn’t move. ‘I tell you later. Can you ask Orana to prepare a bath?’

‘Yes,’ he heard her murmur, ‘a bath. Hot water to wash his filth away.’ He flinched and embraced her even faster.

‘Of course, Messere,’ Bodahn replied with an understanding look on his face, and he heard him call out to the small elf they had saved from Hadriana’s sadistic acts. He felt guilty that he had to leave her to perform the task of filling the tub, but he didn’t dare to leave Hawke, who was still shivering and holding on to him as if only he could keep her alive. After some time he heard Orana’s voice, much less squeaking than he remembered, much more with confidence. No doubt Hawke’s doing. Albran’s doing.

‘The bath is ready. I shall make her a cup of tea.’

He lifted his head from Hawke’s.

‘Wait a moment,’ he told the elf and turned to Albran. ‘I will leave you to Orana now, she will help you with your bath.’

Hawke grabbed him even more strongly. ‘No!’ she cried out. ‘Don’t leave me!’ She held him so fiercely that she almost pushed the air out of his lungs. He closed his eyes, tentatively putting his arms around her once more.

‘You want me to bathe you?’ He could hardly believe that, not after him hurting her and she so recently being hurt by another male.

‘Yes. Please,’ she pleaded, her voice hoarse from crying.’ I need you. You came for me. I trust you. You alone.’

He was deeply touched by her words. _I don’t deserve this _._ This mess is my fault. I should have been more vigilant_. But without saying anything, he lifted her in his arms and carried her upstairs.

Only now, when he put her carefully on her feet in the bathroom, he noticed her clothes were ripped. It took all of his self-control to not ignite his markings; with force he suppressed a flash of fury. Instead he gently undressed her and she was standing like some kind of puppet, letting it all happen. His heart broke some more. He doubted if he would ever be able to undo what that ...

_No, don’t get angry, restrain yourself, she needs you, right now she depends on you, give her your care, not your anger._

He lowered her in the bathtub and took the cloth that was resting over the side, violently trying not to notice how beautiful she was, even in her grief. And then he saw the bite-mark the abomination had left on her shoulder. He clenched his jaw _ _. Don’t react._ Don’t mention it. Keep calm. For her sake._ He drenched the cloth and started to clean her arms. After that he washed her hair. He didn’t dare to touch the other parts of her body, not even her legs. He knew he could trust himself, but was uncertain if __she__  would trust any male again. Although she had wished him to bathe her. And although she seemed to relax in the warm water, letting his fingers work her scalp, flexing her long legs, letting her hands flow on the surface. She even managed to conjure up a little smile on her lips. Orana brought the cup of tea she had promised, and Albran took little sips.

He felt confused, to put it mildly. All kinds of feelings were raging through his system. Now his anger was, at least, a little quietened down, he realised once more how much he cared for her. He had been craving to go back to her, to plead for her forgiveness, to tell her he was hers, that he thought of her as his. Considering the way she regularly looked at him, and, even more, how she now and again let her fingers lightly but confidently rest on his wrist, she already knew. But that wasn’t enough. Not now,  not at this heavy and at the same time precious moment.

He had to tell her that he had made a big mistake by leaving her, the biggest mistake of his life, to be frank. He even had found himself, several times over, on her threshold to make that final step, but he always had backed away in the end. Fearing her reaction, fearing the ultimate decision, to be honest. What if he couldn’t live up to her expectations? What if he would disappoint her, or himself? He had a long time ago submitted to his love for her, even before that beautiful night that had ended so dreadfully wrong when he had cowardly ran away. Too afraid to get attached, too afraid to give himself completely, too afraid to tie himself. Too afraid she would find out he could offer her nothing but a mangled past and a bleak future. His memories had been a welcome but meagre excuse. And he knew that she knew. But to openly confess that to her after what he had done, had been proved to too hard to do. Just as she, apparently, he had settled with a warm friendship. A friendship with that little extra. With the tentatively touches now and again, with the exchanged comprehension and warm looks.

‘How did you know?’ she finally asked, her voice still somewhat throaty. She jerked him out of his reflections. He removed his hands out of her lovely hair and rested them on her sun kissed shoulders, absentmindedly starting to massage them.

‘Sebastian came to warn me,’ he said.

‘Sebastian...?’ She frowned her brows in such a delicate way that it made his heart flutter.

‘Yes, apparently – he –’ He shuddered to mention the abomination’s name. He shook himself sternly and started anew. ‘Apparently Anders went to him. Beats me why.’ He refused to think that that monster had felt remorseful and had wanted to make amends. He wanted him to suffer for what he had done. Ripping his heart out was too good. Too quick. Draw and quarter was too good for him. Removing his innards and showing them to him was too good. Flaying the skin off his back, strip by strip... He coughed awkwardly and abruptly abandoned this trail of cruel punishment. Instead he returned his attention to her. That was, after all, why he was here for. She needed him and he was willing, with all his heart, to comply. ‘If things have gone right, Aveline is informed and, as we speak, Anders is being imprisoned in the Keep.’

‘Good,’ she said, with some sort of satisfaction that nevertheless sounded dismally. He allowed himself to rest his cheek on her wet hair for a moment and to softly squeeze her shoulders. She hummed approvingly which made him happy. Then he helped her to stand and he wrapped her in the huge towel Orana had brought. She leaned into him with hooded eyes and a contented sigh. He automatically put his arms around her frame. Before he realised what he did and could recoil, she reacted and stilled his move by grasping his fleeting hand.

‘Thank you,’ she said and suddenly he broke.

Holding her, after she had trusted him so much, wrapped in that cloth, looking so vulnerable, after all his contemplations while he was washing her hair and massaged her skull and shoulders, after all the fear and sorrow and after all the spoiled time and stupid hesitations, he had to tell her how he felt. His mind was reeling and he fervently tried to stop it from doing so. He failed miserably and yet the words came out as a weak sigh.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered. He had wanted to scream and shout and was, in the end, glad he just remorsefully smiled at her. Not a moment later, to his great surprise,  he found out she had expected something entirely different.

She looked up, clearly not knowing what he meant.

‘What would you be sorry for? You didn’t do anything bad to me. You are here for me!’ She looked genuinely bewildered. He had to blink to force back the tears that threatened to flood his eyes.

‘If I hadn’t left you ... I should have been here, then all of this wouldn’t have happened,’ he tried to explain. ‘I shouldn’t have left in the first place,’ he added desperately.

‘Your memories,’ she murmured.

‘Fuck my memories,’ he said harshly, ‘they don’t count. __You__  count.’ He wanted to say so many things, so many other things. But she beat him to it with just one simple gesture.

Her breath hitched. ‘Fenris...’ Clad in just the towel she reached for him, the cloth falling away with her tentative move. ‘Fenris...’ Her fingers gently touched his arm.

-

Afterwards she couldn’t explain what had come over her, what had driven her. Perhaps her contemplations, earlier that evening, before Anders had made his entrance, played their part.

About how she longed for Fenris, how she loved him and how she had, listening to the storm raging outside and staring into the fire, had wished for him to be with her. To share that glass of whisky with her, to read to her with that wonderful hypnotizing arousing voice of his in which she had wanted to bathe in bliss.    
  
Instead Anders had come and had shaken her world upside down. Had violated the boundaries of friendship and had hurt her beyond measure.

And then, against all odds, Fenris had  turned up again, in the midst of her misery. Perhaps he had not rescued her as such, but he had literally picked her up. Like he had done after her mother had died. Awkward, perhaps, but sincere and always so honest. Someone to rely on. Her rock in the raging turmoils of life. The only one she really trusted.

The only thing that counted, at that very moment, was that he was here, with her. Radiating his honesty, his dedication.

No. The only thing that counted was that she trusted him, more than anyone else, and that she loved him. That she loved him even more because he had come for her. Out of the ashes of her grief and despair, a sudden flicker of want rose. Her elf was here for her, showing nothing but affection and deep devotion. For her and her alone. She wanted to forget what had happened to her, and he was the only one who could make her forget. She wanted to make love to him, to let the horrible memory melt away. To replace it with something good, with something worthwhile to remember. So, without thinking, she reached out for him.

-

Fenris blinked.

In an instant her perfect naked body was exposed. Again he saw the white scars on her honey coloured skin and adored every single one. His beautiful warrior, his beautiful rogue. Her shining sapphire eyes were filled with want, inviting him, pleading for his touch. He couldn’t help himself. He moved to her and embraced her and, after only a moment of hesitation, embraced her harder.

Without thinking any further he kissed her, pulling her even more close, roving his hands over her soft velvet skin. All the feelings he had tried to ignore for the last three years poured into him; with force they broke through the dam he had erected. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He wanted her to know how he felt for her, wanted to express himself.

‘I’m yours,’ he breathed on her lips and she opened her mouth for him. He let his tongue tangle with hers, drinking in her taste, the texture of her tongue, her lips, her whole mouth. And then he withdrew, panting.

This was not right. She had suffered greatly; she had been raped, for the Maker’s sake! He shouldn’t do this. She had to feel safety, being cared for. There should not be another male who tried to claim her body. But he had hardly time to think it over before she attacked his mouth on her own account. Again he recoiled. ‘Albran! Do you really want to do this?’

She looked at him with those beautiful, unfathomable blue eyes.

She didn’t want to wonder about her sudden impulse. She loved him and right now she wanted him, to put things right. She still felt shaken and completely undone, but her instinct told her this was what she had to do.

‘Yes,’ she simply said and then, suddenly, she looked panicked. ‘Unless ... do you think I’m tainted? By him? That I’m not worthy ...?’

‘No!’ he reacted, shocked by her train of thoughts. ‘But you had an extreme – encounter today...’

‘Then give me a good memory to remedy that,’ she murmured. ‘Please, Fenris, I want you, I need you. I __love__  you.’

He almost went rigid. This was too much. Her declaration made his head spin. He couldn’t make love to her, not after she had been brutalised in such a cruel way earlier this day. He wasn’t worthy of this. She surely wasn’t able to cope with it. But again she defied his thoughts.

‘I love you,’ she repeated, as if sensing his trepidation, and he knew for certain she did. She brushed her lips against his. ‘And I know you love me. I can see it in your eyes. I feel it in your touch. You are here for me. You don’t have to tell me, just show me. I love you. Only you.’

He couldn’t deny that.

-

Without further thinking he carried her to her bed, immediately caressing her tenderly after he had laid her naked body down on her silk drapes. He kissed the bite mark with soft lips, he let his fingers linger over her firm breasts and then wander over the straight plain of her stomach. He hesitated at the soft curls that marked the boarders of her sex, but she arched her back and invited him to her most intimate body parts. He touched her folds and found her wet and willing. He groaned her name and took one of her nipples in his mouth while he inserted a finger into her inviting moist core. She moaned loudly and arched her back even more. His tongue followed his fingers and circled around her sensitive nub while he added a second finger. She cried out his name and buried her fingers into his shoulders. Not moments later she came with a force that made her body shake like an earthquake. She pulled at his shirt, forcing him to take it off and in a hurry he unlaced his pants with trembling fingers. She opened her legs for him and he positioned himself between them, waiting somewhat longer, anticipating the moment with closed eyes before he entered her. He pushed slowly, drinking in her moans and gasps, feeling her wetness, drowning completely in her while he filled her with his pulsating member. She received him, pulling him even deeper by throwing her legs around his waist.

‘You feel so good,’ he whispered, ‘I almost forgot how good.’ At this moment the Anders-problem was but a vague whisper at the background of his awareness. At this moment there was only Albran and she consumed all of his consistence.

‘I missed you,’ she breathed in return. ‘You alone can make me ... ah!’ She interrupted herself with a loud groan when he pushed deep inside her, making her writhe and lifting her back even higher to give him all the entrance he needed and she wanted. He felt her growing tight and then release herself for a second time, washing her fluids around his hardened length, making him come inside her and filling her with his seed. He collapsed on her, panting. She let her fingers trail over his bare torso, down his arms and back to his behind where the length of her arms ended.

‘You have such wonderful buttocks,’ she said with a sudden giggle, ‘and you so not hide them with those sinful tight leather leggings you use to wear. It’s enraging. It should be outlawed!’

She was so wrapped up in the knowledge that Fenris had returned to her, that she had actually forgotten about what had happened that had brought him back in the first place. Just like she had aimed for. Her instincts had been right. Well, not __forgotten__  exactly, of course. Anders and what he had done to her had sunk back into another chamber of other dreadful memories. She would have to manage with it, to learn to cope with it, but in another time. Not now. Now she wanted to revel in the knowledge her elf was hers. At least ...

Her eyes turned from exalted to frightened in an instant. He could not ignore that, not even through the haze of happiness.

‘Albran?’ he whispered, tenderly brushing her face. ‘What’s bothering you?’

‘Do you really want me? I mean, after all that has happened? I don’t mean today, I mean between us,’ she babbled frantically. ‘I don’t want you to pity me, to come back to me to comfort me, out of compassion. I want you to be honest, not to deny your own feelings and fears – ‘

He cut her off with a heated kiss and left her no space to ramble further on or to be uncertain about his feelings for her. In a flash he grabbed her arms and pinned them over her head. He grinned mischievously. He didn’t even bother to reply, not to these frantic uttered fears. There was a better way.

‘Only wonderful buttocks?’ he smirked, referring to her former playful remark. She gave him a sly smile and he melted.

‘Everything about you is wonderful,’ she said. Making use of his surprise at her words, she turned his body around and straddled him.

‘I win,’ she giggled cheekily.

Her glorious victory only lasted a moment, before he, without an effort,  flipped her over and once more pinned her down. ‘Do you now,’ he said, smiling. He dipped to kiss her and she responded eagerly.

And again they made love, amazing, breathtaking love.

Exhausted they fell onto the mattress. He pulled her into his arms and she smiled sleepily, lazily dragging her fingers along his chest.

‘Amata mea,’ Fenris whispered, after his second flight to heaven and after he had found back his voice. ‘I will always be yours.’

‘Amata?’ she murmured drowsily.

He smiled in her hair. ‘I means “my beloved”. It’s Tevene.’

Hawke chuckled silently. ‘Then that’s the second good thing that comes from Tevinter,’ she said. She grasped his hand and squeezed it. ‘The first one is you.’

Not moments later they fell asleep, their arms lovingly circled around each other. Halfway the night she woke with a start, afraid he had left her, only to find him holding her fast in his sleep. She gave out a sigh out of wondrous happiness and drifted off once more.

-

‘Albran, love, are you awake?’

‘I am now,’ she grumbled, although anything but sulkily. He could wake her up with that mind crushing, coarse velvet voice anytime. ‘Keep talking,’ she encouraged him, ‘you never know where it will lead to.’ Besides that, it was a wonderful experience to find him next to her, pressed close to her, no less.

He chuckled softly. And then blew her mind away.

‘Marry me,’ he whispered softly.

She needed some moments to let those words sink into her brain.

‘Say again?’ she stammered, utterly confused.

‘I think you heard me very well. Marry me, Albran. I can’t live without you. I don’t __want__  to live without you and I certainly don’t want to make the same mistake again. I never want to lose you. Be my wife. Please?’

She shifted so she could eye him. He looked sincere, and at the same time utterly filled with love. Love for her. She had a hard time not to cry. She touched his face and produced a wavering smile. ‘You don’t have to beg me to become your wife.’

‘Don’t I?’ He looked even more sincere. ‘I’ve hurt you more than enough.’

She shook her head. ‘No, my love. You just needed space. And time.’ _And perhaps some appalling incident. Don’t say that out loud, don’t let it spoil the moment. Leave it for now _.__  ‘I love you, Fenris. Of course I want to be your wife, if you wish to be my husband.’

‘I do,’ he breathed on her lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


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